An Outsider's Isolation
by Solona Amell
Summary: The journey of four survivors. Talayth, a female Dunmer who's accounted for murder. Endric, the Nord Dragonborn who chooses to shirk his duty for another. Farran, the Breton mage out to find secrets among the dead. And Sugha, a female Orc who strives to prove her worth. All strangers. All united under one threat. And it's a threat that not all will escape.
1. Chapter 1

"This. Is. Ridiculous."

Talayth smacked her head on the bar, mugs clattering on impact. Her head ached from the blow, but she ignored it. Her tattered dress (If you could even call it that) snagged on the wooden planks of the floor, and her raven colored hair was disastrous, falling in her face multiple times. The rag in her hand had become filthy from scrubbing the endlessly dirty mugs, which never stayed clean for long after. And, as usual, there wasn't a single person there to drink, making her efforts seem exceedingly useless.

She was through being the innkeeper for the day. The Cornerclub received little business, so there seemed little point to her job. And yet she worked anyway, in hopes of grabbing what coin she could. Even so, she had become incredibly moody this day, and her bitterness was affecting her friends as well.

Rendar, who was usually working the bar instead of Talayth, was leaning against the wall behind her, picking through their reserves from off the shelf. He studied each bottle of booze with a critical eye, eventually throwing each one aside in apparent dissatisfaction. She eyed him wearily, a bit conflicted by his actions.

 _It's not like we get buisness anyway, so who cares what the wine taste like? I need those bottles to get through the day._

"Hey," She interrupted, "Stop throwing it out. Who gives a damn if the customers don't like our swill? They can get drunk at Candlehearth Hall for all I care."

He scoffed. "I'm not doing it for the _customers_ , I'm doing it for _us_. Just because we live in this filthy hobble doesn't mean we have to drink disgusting ale to match. I refuse to live in such wretched conditions."

She rolled her eyes as he tossed yet another bottle aside. Rendar had always been the more… stubborn of the three of them. Despite living in the slums of Windhelm, underneath the foot of the Nords, Rendar refused to set himself to the standards that they were given as Dunmer. People always assumed that they were unkempt and dirty creatures (which in some cases was quite accurate) but Rendar was prideful of his people, and spent most of his time trying to find ways to prove the Dark Elves better than the Nords. Particularly when it came to his inn, the New Gnisis Cornerclub. He only accepted the best.

Elenil, who was sitting silently in a chair, held different standards. By far the most level-headed of the group, he was never out to taunt the Nords, nor was he trying to prove anything as a Dunmer. Elenil was simply looking for a better way to live, tired of the war for survival in Windhelm. Despite his race, he didn't spite all Nords for who they were, unlike both Rendar and Talayth. He simply envied their freedoms, and hoped for Ulfric to grant them some form of dignity.

They both lived here in the Cornerclub with Talayth. There were other Dunmer amongst them in Windhelm, the Atheron family to be specific. But Aval worked his stall in the market for most of the day. And his other siblings, Faryl and Suvaris, had jobs at a local farm just outside the city, owned by Nords. (Much to Talayth's disgust) She was the newest member of the Dark Elf population. But unlike them, She had a more personal reason for her anger.

She had arrived a few years back, only thirteen years old at the time. Originally from Morrowind, her family had faced the hardships that almost all Dunmer faced. The eruption of the Red Mountain. The entire ordeal had major effects on Morrowind's economy, and soon, their lives began to steadily decline.

Talayth's mother had always stayed home to take care of her daughter; her father spent his days mining for Stalhrim, a difficult choice of work. Stalhrim was simply becoming more and more difficult to find, and as each day passed, her father came home with less and less coin. With no other trade to make a living off of, her parents chose to move their lives away from their home and to a new world. Skyrim.

But it was clear as soon as they had arrived in Windhelm that things were just as bad here. The civil war that plagued the land was completely unheard of to her family, so they were completely caught off guard by the pure hatred they received from the Nords. They were shunned instantly, considered just as revolting as the High Elves.

Just like the rest of the Dunmer, they were pushed into the Grey Quarters, forced to live in squalid conditions and were given as little as possible. But even then, they received no peace from the others. They were continuously harassed by the locals, and taxed on nearly everything they needed. All due to their appearance alone. It was a sad life. But living conditions aside, they were surviving, and that was all that mattered.

Until the tension in Windhelm finally broke.

The outsiders, as the Nords called them, were sick of the abuse. And the pale people of Skyrim were sick of letting them into their home. Riots broke out in the streets. The elves demanded equality; the Nords demanded justice. No one was willing to break, and so everyone began to fight, tearing each other apart without the slightest remorse.

And Talayth's father became just one of the many deaths.

She was too young to know exactly what happened, but her mother described it as a meaningless squabble between him and a Nord citizen. The conversation turned foul, and a sword was pulled. They fought, and her father fell. Becoming yet another victim.

If her mother hadn't traveled outside that day, they would have never found his body. No one gave respect of the dead of the Dunmer. His body had been resting in the snow for days. The white now tinted red. The Nords had killed Talayth's father, then disgraced his body. And it sent fury through her.

But it was more than that. It wasn't just that he had been killed. It was that his death meant nothing. Nothing at all. Even after he perished, the world continued on moving as it always had. No one shedded tears. No one gave a moment of silence. No one gave comfort to the grieving widow and her child. Because no one _cared._ All because he was a Dark Elf.

Whether it was from heartbreak or bad health, Talayth's mother died soon after. But her daughter was almost sixteen now, and she was no longer dependant on others. She lived in the Grey Quarter for the rest of her time, becoming close to Rendar and Elenil as the years passed. But even as time went by, the Dark Elves were still treated the same. They were abused. They were taxed. And they were unwelcome. And soon, her hatred had only boiled even more.

Rendar smacked a bottle down in front of Talayth, snapping her out of thoughts. After a few seconds, she eyed him dully.

"You know, the cheap stuff is just as good."

"Not for my establishment." He snatched the rag from her hands. "And keep the rag clean."

"You run the damn bar then. I doubt we'll get any customers anyways."

That stung. Rendar paused for a moment, then pushed past her to take her place. Taking it as a confirmation, Talayth stepped aside and sat down at the table, Elenil giving her pointed looks as she did. Choosing to ignore them, she plucked her dagger from the table's surface, letting it slip through her at the nails with the tip of her dagger, boredom setting in. But despite her attempts to ignore him, her annoyance got the better of her.

" _Do you mind_?" She snapped, stabbing her dagger into the table. It wavered from the force, ending in silence. Elenil simply shook his head wearily.

"You're in a bad mood."

"No shit."

"But _why_ are you?"

"None of your damn business."

Her voice was harsh, but she didn't mean it. Her anger wasn't directed towards Elenil. Nor was it Rendar. But she couldn't contain her spitefulness. She had spent enough time holding in her hatred. She felt bitter. Disgruntled. For what reason she didn't know. But she was angry, and resentful, and everything in between. Whatever it was about this day, it brought out the worst in Talayth.

 _Damn Nords._

"I'm getting some fresh air…" She murmured, not waiting for a response.

Grabbing her dagger on the way, (It's always nice to have protection) she stepped outside, a burst of frosted air spreading across her skin. As the door closed behind her, she inhaled, the frigid wind giving life to her dormant body. Soft, delicate flakes fell from above, leaving her hair spotted white. The sun hung high above, engulfed in the grey billow of clouds that covered the sky, concealing what little blue was visible. It was a winter-like Eden. Despite her hatred for her home, she couldn't help but admire its raw beauty.

 _Wait… What's going on?_

Voices echoed throughout the corridors, ending with a fearful scream and multiple shouts of anger. Talayth stiffened, her eyes straining to see past the weather and towards the sound.

 _What the hell is happening?_

Hesitantly, she followed the source of the sound, treading lightly through the snow. The voices became louder, the apprehension clear in each word. As she reached the main gates of Windhelm, she finally caught sight of the mass. A small group had formed, local Nords surrounding a pitiful looking girl. A Dark Elf. And the tension in the air was lucid. She was being harassed.

"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks."

It was a Nordic man, crude and mocking, with a crass smile. Talayth recognized his grotesque features immediately. Rolff Stone-Fist. the local Idiot. He often pranced around the Grey Quarters in the early morning, letting her and the others hear his unwanted opinion. He was a drunk, a sleaze, and the biggest ass Talayth had ever met. And better yet, he simply adored Dark Elves.

The woman he had addressed looked insulted, but didn't attack Rolff back. Talayth was almost positive that she was Sulvari.

She put her hands up in a pleaded defense. "But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight."

Another man spoke up, a beggar. "Hey, maybe the reason these grey-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"

"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!"

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, _little spy._ " Rolff smiled at the girl. "We got ways of finding out what you really are."

He moved towards her, and in that instant, Talayth decided to interrupt.

"Don't you _dare_ touch her!"

Her voice shook with anger, but she did her best to hold it steady. She bounded across the little space in between them, and planted herself in front of the girl. Her eyes skimmed down the Nords with disgust. She wouldn't leave her Kin like this.

"Well, whadaya know," Rolff narrowed his eyes. "There's another one. They must live in a pack. Like _rats._ "

"Piss off, Nord." Talayth hissed the words.

"You don't have the right to tell me to leave. This is our city. And your kind has defiled it!"

"It wasn't very grand to begin with. Not surprising considering how barbaric and repulsive you Nords are."

That hit the mark. Rolff's face contorted in rage, his mocking smile now gone.

"You know what, grey-skin? I've had enough of you and your people!"

And suddenly, the world came crashing down. Sulvari screamed behind Talayth as Rolff charged, his fists raised. She didn't have time to think, she just reacted. Her hand had instinctively reached for her knife, and before she knew it, the blade sank deep into the flesh of the Nord. His attack stopped in that instant, and silence filled the air. Blood dripped gently off the blade as his body slid to the stone ground. His mouth opened for just a slight moment, then shut, his eyes foggy and unfocused.

She killed him. She had killed a man with her own hands.

Talayth despised Nords. But she would never kill out of hatred. She was raised better than that. But even so, she had let her blade part through his skin and end his life in mere seconds. She was a monster.

Both Sulvari and the beggar covered their mouths, shocked to the core. Talayth was too shaken to explain herself, and she simply fell to her knees, the dagger slipping from her fingertips. After what seemed like forever, the beggar broke the silence.

"M-Murderer! You heartless fiend! Guards! Guards!"

"But I-I was defending myself! You saw me!"

But the beggar didn't listen, running towards the palace in a spur of panic and fear. Talayth could only stare past him. She flinched as a hand fell on her shoulder, ready to fight off the guards that pulled at her. But it was only Sulvari, looking pale. She didn't try to hide her fear.

"Please. I thank you for what you did for me, but you can't stay here. They won't let you live after killing one of their own. You need to leave."

"What? No! No, I won't leave! This is my _home!_ "

"If you stay, you'll die. You need to leave this city, anywhere is better than here."

"I can't, it's suicide. I don't have food, or coin, or anything!"

"It's still safer out there than here. "She lifted the dagger from off the ground, placing it in Talayth's hands. "There's no time to argue about this, go!"

The sound of footsteps drew nearer, and Talayth, with no other options, stood and ran. She didn't stop when she heard shouting behind her. She burst through the front gates and into the open, leaving everything she had left in exchange for her life. Tears began to form around the rims of her eyes, but she wiped them away and ran harder. She wouldn't fall apart. Not now.

She didn't know how far she ran, but the sounds of the city disappeared after a while, and her body began to slow. Even so, she forced herself forward with the little strength she had left. But even then, she couldn't last long. She tripped, her face landing in the cold snow. Glancing behind her, she struggled to get her bearings, but she could feel herself breaking. Her attempts to stand became a pitiful crawl, and she finally let the tears slip down her face. Eventually, she let herself fall, and she curled up in the show, shivering.

This was it. Her pathetic life played out in front of her. Did the Gods really hate her people that much? Could they have truly given her such ill fortune?

She didn't know. She couldn't even think about it, for her body was slowly becoming numb and her mind had gone silent. She didn't bother to think about the past, nor the future. Because neither one mattered at this point. She was alone, and dying.

With a chilling breath, she tried one last time to stand. Only for her legs to give out, and her vision to fade to black as she collapsed into the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing. No movement at all.

Endric studied the woman with curiosity as she slept restlessly in his bed. Her face was speckled with blood and her raven hair was littered with snowflakes. He didn't often see Dark Elves roaming around Skyrim, but she didn't look like a foreigner. She wore a tattered dress with puffy white sleeves that fell off her shoulders, and a corset with straps overlaying it. Typical for a tavern girl he supposed. She was covered in dirt as well, with matted hair down to her waist, with her face rested on the pillow, pale and constricted. She was clearly in pain or suffering, but from what he didn't know.

If Endric had to guess, she was a farmer, or perhaps a peasant. But what she was doing out in the snow was a mystery. He didn't make a habit of plucking strangers off the ground in throwing them into his bed, but he just didn't feel right leaving her there to freeze. Unfortunately, the girl was _exhausted._ He had sat by her side patiently for hours, but her eyes remained closed. He couldn't sit and wait forever.

Dropping his sword onto the floor and unstrapping the majority of his armor, Endric returned to the bar, ordering a drink with the flick of his hand. Kjeld, the innkeeper and one of the few occupants of Kynesgrove, lazily filled a tankard and slid it down the bar. Eyeing the cup, he sniffed the content wearily.

 _Stale mead. Disgusting._

He drank anyways, grimacing as he downed what had to be the foulest content in all of Skyrim. Kjeld scratched his beard, blatantly staring down his room where the young woman slept. He hadn't been exactly pleased to see Endric carrying her through the door of his inn, but he let the girl sleep, so long as he paid for the extra day in the room.

Pulling a dirty rag from his belt, he wiped the bar with sluggish movements. "That girl still asleep?"

"Mhm."

"Where'd you say you found 'er again?"

Endric pushed his mug away, now empty. "I was on my way to Winterhold to browse the market. Needed some supplies for the road. Found her on the way there, just lying in the snow. Looks like she collapsed."

"Well I don't know why you brought her here, because she can't stay without coin. As soon as she opens her eyes, she leaves."

Endric narrowed his eyes. "You're just going to toss her out? Because she doesn't have a few septims? What if all that blood was caused by an attack? She could be hurt."

"And she could be _dead."_ Kjeld shook his head, refilling his tankard generously. "Look, we're both Nords, so I'll explain. I ain't got nothing against that elf in there, but times are hard. And my wife and I can't spare anything, even for her. We have to look out for our own kin."

"So you won't help her?"

" _You're_ the one who brought her here. And I didn't say that." He leaned over the bar, peering into his room. "I'd hate to see someone die in my own establishment, so i'll give her a few necessities. But from then on she's on her own. _If_ she wakes."

He grabbed Endric's empty cup and turned the other way, becoming preoccupied with other things. Endric took it as a sign to end the conversation, leaving the bar and heading back to his room. If the woman really did have an injury, he shouldn't move her around.

 _Guess I'll be sleeping on the floor tonight._

But as he opened the door and approached the bed, he stopped. The bed was empty, the blanket pulled back showing that it's inhabitant had crawled out of it. Endric blinked, shocked to see the Dark Elf missing.

"What? Where did she-"

Before he realized she was even there, pain slammed into the back of his head. Shouting in pain, Endric fell to his knees, his hands holding his new bruise. As a string of curse words left his lips, he turned, his eyes resting on his assailant.

The woman was definitely awake, her crimson red eyes glaring down at Endric with both hatred and fear, a large and heavy book held high in her hands. Knocking him on the back of the head was clearly not an accident.

"Why the hell did you hit me? I helped-"

But he couldn't finish his sentence; the elf swung again, aiming for his jaw. He had just enough time to jump back before she went for another blow. But this time, Endric caught the book, and grabbed her wrist in the process. He smiled, eyeing the girl humorously.

 _Got you._

The book dropped from her hand, pages splaying around the room. Just when he was convinced he'd won, she twisted her arm, breaking free of his hold. He raised his arms in defense, ready for another assault with the book, but instead she went for something else.

 _Damn it!_

Endric cursed as she grabbed his sword from beside the bed, pointing it right at his neck. She snarled at him, ready it kill if it was necessary. With no other choice, he raised his hands above his head.

"Hey, hey, there's no need for that! Please, just put my sword down."

She only raised it higher, tilting her chin up with hatred burning in her eyes. He didn't understand why she had become so hostile, and at this point he didn't care. He only wanted for her to drop the weapon and explain her story.

"I'm not going to try anything, so will you just please just put it down?"

Neither one of them moved, eyeing each other suspiciously. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she slowly lowered his sword, watching Endric the entire time with narrowed eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to see she was somewhat reasonable.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME, PLEASE!"

Or not.

 _Are you kidding me? This girl is ruthless!_

The door to his room was slammed open by Kjeld, alarmed and ready to fight. He glared at Endric, then gawked at the girl in surprise. Apparently he hadn't heard the prior commotion when Endric was in need of help. But he jumped to his feet to protect the elf.

"What? What's going on?"

"Kjeld, wait! She's-"

It was too late, and the girl bolted out the door, and out of the inn. Both Endric and Kjeld stared blankly, neither of them understanding.

"She woke up?"

"Oh yeah, she's awake. She tried to beat the living hell out of me with a book."

"Don't be so harsh, she was scared."

Endric glared at the innkeeper. He couldn't disagree less.

"Kjeld, did you see her? She wasn't scared, she was _trying to kill me."_ He jabbed his thumb in her direction. "That girl's got fire burning in her eyes, she doesn't want our help. She ran as soon as she had the chance!"

He sighed wearily. "Well it's too late now. She's probably long gone." With an irritated huff, Kjeld made his way back to the bar. "If all this business with the Dark Elf is over with, I'd like to run my inn again. Unless you plan to stay another night?"

Endric shook his head, his eyes still on the door where she had fled. "No, I'll take my leave now. I need to get to Riften as soon as possible."

He produced a small satchel of coin, twice the pay of the room, and tossed it into Kjeld's waiting hands. Retrieving his things from his room, Endric made his way towards his horse, loading his things into the saddle bags. The business with the Dark Elf was done and over with; he had no reason to stay and dawdle. If she wanted to run off into the wilds, then that was her decision. Endric had his own work to do.

With his things packed, and his debt paid, he was ready to leave. With a snap of his reins, the horse reared and began its track towards Riften, leaving the inn behind. But even after he galloped away from Kynesgrove, Endric still kept his eyes open for a Dark Elf through the snow.


	3. Chapter 3

"You stupid Nord..."

Talayth hissed the words, watching from behind a few barrels as he sped off on his horse. Who the hell did he think he was, plucking strangers out of the snow and putting them in his _bed._ How revolting. She didn't know why the stranger had picked her up, and frankly she didn't care. He was probably a bandit, looking for coin on her corpse. Or maybe he intended to hold her for ransom. Or perhaps he was a murderer.

She stopped. A murderer, just like her. Talayth touched her face lightly, feeling dried blood caked on her skin. It wasn't the blood of an innocent, but it still felt just as sinful. Her father would have been so ashamed...

She crouched behind the barrels for just a bit longer, listening to the sound of hooves on stone fade away. Wincing as she stood, Talayth slowly approached the porch of the inn, tripping on the bottom step and nearly falling onto her back. Pulling her tattered dress in frustration, she shielded her eyes from the early morning sun and gazed at the sign before her.

 _Braidwood Inn. Never heard of it._

The air was still crisp, but snow wasn't falling. The ground was strangly clear as well; she could actually see plants. The inn was a clearly a good distance away from Windhelm, but it didn't fill her with safety. She was a wanted criminal. Who's to say they wouldn't send someone after her? She couldn't just sit and dawdle, she needed to get out of Skyrim.

Talayth shivered, standing idly on the porch of the inn. Even out of Windhelm, it was still freezing outside. And a tavern dress did nothing to fight off the bite of the cold. Perhaps she could slip into the inn for awhile. All warm and cozy, stocked with plenty of food and even better than that- mead. Did the innkeeper see her face?

 _You idiot they dragged you in there while you were unconscious, of course he saw your face. You made a big scene in his inn just moments ago. Why would he help you?_

It was fine. She had endured worse. A little bad weather wouldn't slow her down. She would be just fine on her own. She didn't need help from the stupid Nord...

Talayth went inside anyway.

The gust of heat that hit her was pleasant; she had almost smiled before her eyes landed on the gruff innkeeper. She hadn't really paid attention to him when she had ran away from her assailant. Frankly he wasn't a pretty sight. Tan skin that sagged from age, and a long, stringy blonde-grey hair with a matching mustache. All of that was topped off with a layer of dirt and grime covering his body. What a very ugly Nord.

And the way he was staring at Talayth, he must have thought the same of her. Her dress was filthy and blood was caked all over. And after running a hand through her hair, she was convinced she looked worse than even she knew.

She approached the bar slowly, wondering whether or not coming inside was a good idea. The man was wiping a mug with a dirty rag, a painful reminder of the life she used to have. He didn't seem to be focused on her work, staring Talayth down with something she couldn't comprehend. It certainly wasn't relief.

"It's you."

She stiffened instantly. "What's that suppose to mean?"

He blinked as if he didn't understand a thing. "It means you're the elf that ran out of my inn screaming." The man slid the tankard aside lazily. "You leave somethin' behind?"

 _So he doesn't know what I've done. Maybe news hasn't traveled._

"No," she replied. "I just wanted to ask about that man. The one who brought me here."

"Endric. A strange fellow, but kind enough. Said he found you layin' in the snow in the middle of nowhere. Didn't feel right just leavin' you there."

"Oh."

 _Liar. To hell with all of you. No Nord would go out of their way for a Dark Elf._

The innkeeper threw his rag down, leaning his elbows onto the bar. Exhaustion was set deep into his eyes. Talayth wondered just how much trouble her arrival had caused. If he knew why she had ran, things would be even worse. She may not have liked Nords, but her father raised her to be kind to others, even enemies. He wouldn't approve of how she had been living her life.

"Look here, you don't have a septim to your name, and I don't have coin to spare-"

Talayth snorted at his words. "As If I want pity from you, _Nord_."

"- _but_ I'm willing to give you some necessities free of charge."

She blinked, taken back. " _What?"_

The innkeeper seemed almost agitated to explain, his cheeks puffy and pink. "The last thing I need is stories to spread about how someone _died_ in my establishment. I ain't going to send you out there with nothing but a dress to your name. You can have some food on the house. And my wife might have some clothes to fit."

"I... Thank you."

 _...Damn. I feel guilty._

She wanted to shout in his face. Tear that filthy rag from his hands and beat him with it. But guilt won over, and instead she mumbled a brief thank you and sat down at the farthest table. As she waited for the Innkeeper to collect her new things, wife made her presence known. An older woman with dark hair and lined skin. She eyed Talayth with curiosity, but not hatred. Talayth refused to look up. She took the food from her hands graciously; bread and cabbage stew. It was only after she had wolfed down most of the food that she realized how famished her body was. She never had food like this back in the Grey Quarters...

What had she done to earn this? Murdered a man, and earned food and comfort in exchange. The price of committing a crime it seemed.

She didn't regret it, killing that man. Not in the slightest. Thinking back, she remembered how she was convinced that her father would be disappointed. But if he'd known the situation, perhaps he would feel different. He was a heartless fiend, a damnation. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that if they events had replayed before her, she would have used the dagger again. She was a criminal, but a justified one. He deserved to die.

And she deserved to live. Screw Nord law. She had struggled enough, and she wasn't bowing down now. She would continue to live, no matter what. She'd make her life work, even if it meant leaving her home for good.

 _No. That's stupid to think. Who is to say they won't go past Windhelm?_

It was a chance. She was lucky enough that the Innkeeper didn't know her mistake yet. But not everyone would so dimwitted. She was _covered in blood_ for crying out loud. Someone would make the assumption. Someone would know it was her. She'd have to change her appearance...

"Here are your clothes."

Talayth practically flipped out of her chair at the voice in her ear. She hissed at the Innkeeper's wife, before looking away in embarrassment as she handed her the fresh pair of dresses, much nicer than the original. A soft blue with white lining, and a light brown with stitches around the seams. She had a feeling that the set was worth more than anything she owned. She hated showing kindness.

She received a small satchel of food as well, to which she had to force herself not to gawk at. And after a one last gracious gift of a heavy fur cloak and a few Septims, they pushed her towards the door. They might have been supportive, but they still wanted her the hell out of their inn.

Swinging her hair out of the way, she took a step before stopping. The innkeeper looked about anxiously, as if they were ready for her to turn rabid. But instead, she asked for one last favor.

"I had a dagger with me before I came here, but I lost it. I don't suppose you have one that I could borrow for a moment?"

He blanched and stepped away with fear, but the wife shook it off and reached in to reveal a knife from her dress pocket. She took it and stepped back into the chilly air, before stopping to explain.

"I just need one minute."

She didn't stop to see if they were watching. Leaning over the side of the porch, she took the dagger to her neck-

And all of her hair, long and flowing, was cut by the knife. She shredded what she could, leaving her bangs for comfort. Bundling it in her hands, she tossed it into the wind, black strands splayed across the sky.

Talayth had cut her hair for convenience. But also for change. Anything to keep her from looking like who she used to be. It wasn't as if her mother would be caressing her hair anymore.

She handed the dagger back after plucking a few strands from the blade. The innkeeper stared, but didn't question, wrapping his fingers around both the dagger and her hand.

"Keep it."

She stared, but nodded. "Thank you."

"Head to Riften." He nodded in the direction. "It's close. And whatever you're running from, maybe it won't chase you there. Just watch the thieves."

She didn't respond. Just hoped they could see how thankful she was. As thankful as she could ever be for a Nord. She didn't know how to show appreciation for something like this...

It was time to go. She slung the satchel over her back, tentatively touched her now short hair, and stepped back into the outside world. Talayth sighed.

 _Time to go to Riften._


	4. Chapter 4

Endric studied the ground beneath him. Dense grass and small bouts of wildflowers, mixed with multiple shades of fallen leaves from the trees above. A soft, gentle wind blew the small brown fringes of his hair against his face as he ventured further into the woods. Welcome to the Rift.

He chose to take a path through the forest instead of the main roads, feeling the need to get away from people. Not that the road to Riften was ripe with potential conversation, but the occasional carriage and typical bandit or two were enough to keep him away. He needed to get there without delay, even if it meant undertaking the forests.

He was lucky enough to miss most of the larger dangers, only coming in counter with a few frostbite spiders and a skooma addict on the way. Both of which he handled with mostly a careful hand. Having a skilled hand certainly helped.

By the time the wooden city of sin was before him, his wish of solitary was broken.

"You there, come closer!"

Endric rolled his eyes, stepping closer to the armored hero. A guard. Feeling his annoyance rise a notch, he nodded his head.

"Looking to get into Riften?"

"Obviously."

"Well you can't. Not without paying the fee."

He stuck out a gloved hand, as if he expected Endric to abide without hesitation. Endric gawked, a little appalled by it all. Not even in the front gates and he was already being scammed.

"Last time I checked there was never a fee to get into the hold."

"It's a new law."

"Under who's authority?"

"Under _mine_ , are we going to have a problem?"

His hands inched towards the sword on his back, strapped in and ready to fight, but he knew very well that it wouldn't help a thing. The guard sensed the same, keeping his distance.

"You tell me. I doubt the citizens of Riften would love to hear about how the guards are stealing their hard earned coin at the doors."

Silence. Then, the guard slowly stepped aside. He heard a sniffle as he pushed through the gates.

"You'll see how things work here in the Rift soon enough."

The doors shut behind him, and Endric took the chance to gaze at the new world. Wooden docks above stone walkways that were all centered around a market. People both rich and poor maneuvering through each other, eyeing the wares as well as each other, eyeing the stalls with a casual gaze. The normal bustle of everyday life flowing around him. It was normal, but it was off as well… Endric had been to many cities, both rich and poor, and none felt quite like Riften. It was if the morals of the city had fallen low. It was a place he certainly didn't intend to stay in.

He strolled around the market for a brief time, getting a good look at things he may need later on, while also keeping his coin pouch close to his side. He studied the weapons and armor with slight giddiness, feeling his Nord blood calling towards a rather nice looking battleaxe to which was a little too bulky for his liking. Once he finished with his quest, he wouldn't mind opening his own armory one day. After gawking a bit more, he eyed up the simpler things such as stalls of pots and bowls along with animal pelts, continuing on when it was clear that it didn't hold what he wanted. After eyeing up everything he could, it was clear that what he wanted wasn't around. And with a small sigh, he chose to take the chance to rest, leaning up against a nearby bridge as the sun began to settle. The day was nearly over, and he had only gotten a fraction closer to his goal. He had made it to Riften, which meant that the easy part was done. Now he needed to finish his quest and get back out in one piece.

There was a good chance that he'd never find what he was looking for, but it was worth the effort. Anything was worth the effort. And Endric was ready to take it all on to succeed. Now I'll he needed was to find that potion…

"Hey! Stop right there!"

And just like that, he was stalled again, feeling a bit agitated by it all. He expected to see another guard behind him, ready to squander more gold from his pockets. But as he turned to greet the stranger with harsh words, Endric realized that the man wasn't talking to him at all. He was shouting at a cloaked figure behind him. He gawked, watching the small framed person teeter and run, stumbling away from the guards that followed.

"You damn fool!" Another guard bustled up him. "Go get her!"

Endric didn't ask what she did, just obeyed the guard's instructions and turned to find her in the crowd. Citizens in the market scrambled and shouted as they forced their way into the market. The cloaked figure was darting back and forth, maneuvering the market stalls with hurried steps, clearly well aware that the law was running against her. With a few guards following behind her, and a few more coming head on, Endric chose to follow back through the bridge and trap her final opening. And just as he predicted, when the guards closed in, she went to her last resort to flee from the market, and was plunged into his plan.

The woman ran headlong into Endric, bouncing right off his armor and onto the ground with a loud "oof" as she hit. The cloak fell from her head, revealing a dirty dress and a familiar face that he had never expected to see again. The same sharp crimson eyes, pointed ears, and spiteful glare that never faltered. She no longer had blood caked to her ashen skin anymore, skin that had also darkened now that she wasn't freezing alive, and the long hair the cascaded down her back was now diminished to a choppy bob, all but her bangs which still stopped at her waist. She looked different, but he was sure it was her.

The recognition clicked in her eyes as well, and she sprung to her feet out of pure shock.

"You!"

"Me? What the hell are YOU doing here?"

The dark elf stumbled as she stood, pressing her back against one of the many stalls in the market. She clearly hadn't had a change in heart to how she felt about Endric, still keeping her distance. Although thinking about it logically, he was a stranger who had brought her unconscious body into his room. Maybe her disdain was justified.

"Just stay away from me!" Her thin hand protruded from her cloak to tentatively touch the stall behind her, her hand frantically searching for something to use as a weapon.

"I'm not going to hurt you. The guards might," he said, jerking his hand in their direction, "But not me."

"You filthy, lying _Nord!"_

 _Endric rolled his eyes. By the Nine I can't deal with this woman…_

The guards were just feet away, surrounding the market. They didn't need assistance for one puny Dunmer woman. But just as he was ready to leave her to her fate, her hand clasped around an object. A tiny, white potion.

Endric stopped on his feet.

That was it. That was the potion.

"Stop right there, criminal scum!"

The guards formed a circle around the stall, weapons pulled. The Dark Elf let out a small whimper, holding the potion by the neck as if to throw it at whoever came near. Endric couldn't let her break it.

"By order of the Jarl, you have been hereby charged with crimes against Skyrim, what say you in your defense?"

The woman's shaking frame slowly slid closer to the ground, and for once, Endric saw something more than hatred. He saw guilt. But for what, he didn't know.

"I didn't mean to.." was all she whispered.

The guard who had spoken before shook his head, holding his blade a little higher.

"Woah, woah! There's no need for that, I promise." Endric put an arm on the woman's shoulder, facing the guards with a careful gaze. "She's with me."

One of the guards, the one Endric had obviously met at the front gates, spoke first. "Let go of the criminal, Traveler."

"I said she's with me."

"She didn't come in Riften with you. And she didn't pay the toll either."

"What?" the woman blinked, not even focused on Endric, "Toll? So you mean you aren't here about…" She let her voice drift off, her eyes holding both relief and confusion.

"Shut your mouth," the guard lifted his sword again as warning, "If she's really with you, then so be it… But we'll be watching both of you."

And just like that the crowd around them dispersed, the eager shoppers now scurrying home, the guards taking their normal posts. Riften settled down, leaving Endric and the woman alone in the market. Once again, he had stuck out his neck for the stranger.

Endric got to the point, reaching for the potion. "I need that-"

She slapped his hand. "Go freeze in Oblivion, Nord."

With a stiff hand, she tossed the potion into a small satchel around her waist. Glaring, she made her track towards the Bee and Bard, hunching over her bag as she secretly counted septims from inside. The sky was nearly black.

Endric followed on her heels. "You don't understand, that potion is why I came to Riften, it's mine."

"Sod off."

"I need it."

"And why would I give it to you, you creep."

"I'm not stalking you! You followed me!"

They reached the doors to the inn, and the woman turned to hiss, her river of bangs flying into her face. "Give me one reason why I should trust you."

"Because…" Endric hesitated, looking down, then up. "Okay, look. I'm… special. I go by Endric. I'm a traveler by trade. I do alot of odd jobs that usually involve a sword. I have experience and skills. And I need to use them to finish something. A very important mission if you will. And I need that potion to make it happen. So please."

"You're an idiot. A cocky one."

"I'm speaking the truth, I have powers that-"

She snorted as if she doubted every word from his mouth. "Oh really? You think I'm afraid of your powers," She countered. "Well guess what, Nord? I-"

"I can talk to dragons."

Endric slapped a hand to his face as he spoke, knowing well how'd she respond. And he was right.

The Dunmer gawked at him, her sharp eyes staring him down as if he had some form of disease. With slow, measured movements, she walked backwards, away from Endric.

"You're crazy."

"No! No you don't understand it's not like-"

"Help! Help I'm being chased by a madman!"

"Are you kidding me?"

She tried to bolt across the market yet again, but Endric was catching on, and he caught her wrist before she could run. Hissing, she gave another heated glare his way before maneuvering her wrist desperately. Endric, feeling even more exasperated than before, kept a steady grip. He expected the townsfolk to check on all the commotion, but apparently they wanted nothing to do with either one of them anymore.

"Look, I don't know why you were freezing to death out by Windhelm, and frankly I don't care. But you know damn well that if you go wondering off, the guards will be sure to just throw you in prison." He loosened his hand slightly, "I''m trying to be nice. I can get you out of Riften by tomorrow morning, and then you're free to prance off in any direction you'd like. No charge."

She stayed silent, watching with hatred had been clear from the start.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Isn't that what's right?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"Okay, I need that potion too. A favor for a favor. I'll even pay for your room at the inn."

She snorted, as if the very idea of helping him was ridiculous, but she stopped straining against his hold and instead let her hand fall. Endric took it as a sign of agreement. He put on his best smile, trying to hide his disdain. To think that this was the woman that had beat him with a book just the day before…

"Talayth," She spoke, entering the Bee and Barb without any consent. "My name. And don't expect us to be sharing a room."


	5. Chapter 5

_He's insane._

Talayth stared without the slightest shame. Endric, as he explained his name to be, seemed to be content with never making eye contact again, staring intensely at the tankard in his hand. Scars littered his skin, pale and clear, some small and others deadly. His armor was that of his own making, both cloth and steel combined, and in much need of cleaning. His brown hair fluttered at his eyes as the door swung shut behind them, ice blue with dark lashes. He was tall and angular too, unparalleled as far as Nords went. If anything, a bit thin.

But, Talayth thought as she eyed him across their small table inside the Bee and Barb, he was an oddity itself. No amount of good looks could hide his peculiarity. A man that could talk to dragons...

"Stop. Staring. At. Me."

"Is there a problem, Dragon Man?"

"Dragon _born_. And hush, that's not a name to throw around."

"Mhm."

Endric glared. "Stop."

He shuffled in his chair, eyeing the Innkeeper with impatience. Waiting to finally corner her and demand a room. Talayth on the other hand, had finished yet another tankard of mead, and was quite ready for a third. She reached a thin arm across the table, plucking Endric's mug from under his vision. He didn't bother to look down, still focused on the Argonian behind the bar.

She took a swig and swallowed before speaking again. "So what is it?"

"Is what?"

"The bottle, you _Horker."_

This time his attention turned to the satchel, open and on the table between them. "It's a potion."

"I figured that much out, thanks."

It's an important potion." His eyes cast downwards at the small maroon bottle, the vibrant red of the glass shining in his eyes. As beautiful as a Ruby, and just as expensive. Endric gazed into it, a soft subtlety clouding his features. "And I need it."

Talayth rolled her eyes, bangs falling across her shoulder. "So what? Lots of people would like a healing salve. You didn't just pick this one without reason."

"It's not a healing salve."

"So then what is it?"

Endric glared, "It's not your concern."

"Well then I think I'll keep it," Talayth finished her drink with a smack as the tankard hit the table, and quickly snatched the satchel from between them and into her lap. Endric threw himself to his feet, the table nearly flipping on Talayth as he reached across it in a panic. But as the eyes of everyone in the Inn drifted towards them, he took a ragged breath, and sat back down. His shoulders were rigid, the anger apparent in the way his hands were clinched, staring down in disdain. In a dark tone, he spoke to Talayth simply.

"It's a very special potion, one of a kind... Said to date back when the first flurry of snow fell upon Skyrim." His voice lowered enough that Talayth had to lean forward to hear. "There's so many rumors around it, it's hard to say what's real and what isn't. But if I'm right..."

He paused, ice blue eyes meeting hers with a stern gaze. "It can heal anything. Even the most fatal of wounds. And I need it."

They sat in silence, nothing but the soft murmurs of other patrons to fill the quiet. Endric continued to stare absently in the distance, his expression soft with woe. Gingerly, Talayth lifted the small potion from the satchel and into her hands, her fingers skimming the smooth surface. There was nothing peculiar or exciting about its shape, nor did it glow or shine with magic. It was old, dull, and rather unimpressive. And yet, Endric had claimed it to be a relic of time. So perhaps it was meant to look old?

Talayth held the bottle to her eyes, letting light shine through red. "You can't be serious... This thing is hardly special. I've seen potions in much better condition. What do you need it for anyway?"

His eyes flickered for a moment before breaking away. "A friend of mine is dying."

"Oh."

He leaned back in his chair, still keeping up with the barkeep, who was now well aware of his presence. Talayth, feeling less determined in her will, kept her head down on the potion, to keep her mouth shut. Her mind scattered with all the things to say, words that might bring comfort to the strange situation. But she was the last person you wanted at your side when drowning in sorrow.

 _You're wasting your time Endric. They always die in the end._

"I see. That's a shame."

"Don't give me that crap. I know what you're thinking. But I'm desperate. Which is why I'll help you out of this damned city in exchange for the potion. Simple as that. Then we part ways."

Talayth sniffed, seeing that the conversation was over. "So be it.

The silence ensued again, interrupted only by the Argonian innkeeper as she haggled rooms with Endric. As they argued, Talayth replaced the satchel onto the table, a gesture of good will and trust towards Endric. There was no reason to make things more difficult. She was getting what she wanted in the end, and she had no need for the potion anyway. There were much larger issues on her mind...

 _Where am I to go once this is over? I sure as hell can't go home..._

What was she thinking when she ran? That she'd be better off here, surrounded by thieves and thugs? Even if she could get by in the slum of a city, what in Oblivion would keep them from searching for her here? She murdered a man. Self defense or not. They couldn't let this go.

Talayth shivered with a shaky breath. It was hard to forget the blood stained to her clothes. The chilling numbness of the snow as it buried her under. The expressions of those she passed as she ran, trying to escape the sorrowful fate that seemed binded to her from the start. And yet nothing she did seemed to bring her a better life. Hell, she had willingly stood up for another woman, only to be charged with murder because of it. The gods truly did seem to look down upon her people.

But it didn't matter in the end. What matters is that she'd be caught soon if she didn't find somewhere safe to settle down. And Riften was not one of those places.

"Talayth."

Her eyes shot up to meet Endric's, his mouth practically twitching in annoyance. The Innkeeper had snatched up a handful of coin and retreated to her counter, but not before giving them both an irritated scoff. Talayth glared at them both, crossing her arms stubbornly in response.

"Don't give me that look, Nord. I haven't done anything to you."

"No. But you aren't going to like this. There's only one room."

"You're joking."

"My humor isn't that twisted."

Talayth threw herself from the chair in a huff, snatching the bag and making her way upstairs before Endric could beat her to it. As the sound of his shock, she shouted over her shoulder without stopping.

"Well I guess that means you're staying outside! I'm not sharing my bed!"

She reached her room in seconds, the only one not occupied, as the bartender had said. Inside the narrow walls was nothing more than a dresser and a bed downed in straw, bout the same as her hobble back home. Slipping off her shoes and sliding under the blanket, Talayth stuffed her satchel into the bed wither her, waiting patiently for Endric to arrive moments later. Eyeing the Dunmer disdainfully, he glared for just a moment before scrunching his brow in confusion.

"You're going to sleep with the bag? Seriously?"

"I can't trust you to not just take it when I'm not looking! It'll be safer with me."

"And what if you roll on top of it? Or- or it falls off the bed! Then what am I going to do!"

"What? I'm not going to _sleep!_ You'll kill me in the night!'

This time Endric slapped a palm to his head. "You know what, forget it. How about I walk around town some more, while you stay here. Don't even have to worry about me coming back till morning. And then we can get you to another hold, and I can get that damn potion. Deal?"

Talayth glared. "And how does that solve the issue of me not trusting you?"

"It doesn't. But you don't intend to sleep anyway, so what difference does it make? At the least, I'll be out of your hair."

She paused for a long moment. "Fine. Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow."

And with that, Endric tied his sword back to his belt and shuffled into his helmet, shutting the door with a harsh bang as he ventured back into the markets. Talayth, weary and uncertain, did her best to keep her eyes open. Scanning the room, she studied for any possible escape points, but there was nothing but the door. Endric would no doubt stick close by to make sure she didn't flee. And in the end, the guards would no doubt claim her suspicious for traveling in the night. Her options were slim.

Hours passed, and Talayth found herself sinking deeper into the bed with her eyes flickering shut. It felt as though years had passed since she slept, and the soft caress of warmth and comfort was something she rarely had the chance to enjoy. too exhausted to wait for Endric, she let herself drift into slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

_Who in the hell does she think she is? Some backwater criminal scum looking for free handouts because of "oppression". What a joke..._

Endric spewed much worse things as he walked, much of which he had never spoken of another being until now. Bandits had been given higher titles than what he directed at Talayth. And that didn't bother him a bit. This woman was selfish; a spawn of hatred and self-righteously flawed thinking. And she didn't dare give credit to another person. It was as if she wanted to be hated. He didn't dare stray far from the inn. It would be stupid to do so, and if Talayth thought he'd truly walk away and leave her with the potion, she was as dumb as she was rude.

Riften's market, luckily, was nothing but a bridge away from the Bee and Barb, but much to Endric's contempt, was also already packed away and abandoned. It seemed even the locals didn't trust leaving their possessions out in the open, a good move considering that thieves were already walking about. The usual riff-raff of the city was now replaced with shady figures with hoods, a clear sign of the Thieves Guild about. And their eyes drifted on Endric like moths to light. As if being an outsider was clear on his face. And perhaps it was.

Holding the hilt of his sword with one hand, he casually made his way around the market, still keeping an eye on the Inn. Hooded eyes blinked towards him, but disappeared just as quickly. He remained undisturbed, even by the guards. Most likely due to the weapons he carried. At least they were smart enough to choose their targets wisely. And Endric did his best to carry his confidence outwards, in case any of them got ideas.

As he walked, he couldn't help his prying eyes from drifting to the empty stalls, particularly the small chests underneath them. Brow scrunched, he strolled towards the closest stall, and did his best to crouch without suspicion. Sure enough, a quick examination of the chest showed it to be looted. Whoever owned this jewelry stall would be pissed. Then again, shame on them for truly thinking a chest could keep their valuables safe in a city like this. Guess the merchants hadn't actually packed away everything.

 _Clink._

Endric jumped, spinning on his heels at the sound. But nothing waited behind him. He was far away from prying eyes, and not a thief in sight seemed concerned with his actions. Feeling more than a little paranoid, he shifted away from the box, eyes still searching for whatever put him on edge. And after a quick sweep of the market, he found his culprit.

 _Clink._ "Shit. Broke another one... useless things."

Crouched low beneath one of the many stalls, was a cloaked figure, lockpicks jammed deep into the chest beneath. His stature was that of a man, think and wiry, elven most likely, his voice smooth and high. The armor was no doubt something constructed for a thief, and judging by his numerous pockets that glittered with gems, he was clearly the culprit of the last burglary as well as this one. A wonderful example of the locals. How pitiful.

Endric was still behind his own stall, safe from sight. It would only take a few good steps and a measured swing, and Riften would have one last vermin...

He lifted his sword from his belt, already moving towards the thief, before a hand reached out and latched onto his shoulder. On instinct, his sword swept from beside him, but not before a voice shot out in panic.

"Wait wait wait, don't kill me!"

Endric paused, nearly dropping his sword as he tried to pull it to a stop. Shoving the hand from his shoulder and turning to face his assailant in one swift motion, he regained his grip on the blade just long enough to thrust it into the cloaked man's face. Much to his surprise, he looked as though he were about to cry.

"Please don't kill me..."

"What... what the hell do you want?"

With shaky hands, the man pulled away his hood, revealing a tangled mass of mousy brown hair hazel eyes. He stood a good foot beneath Endric, with round eyes and slightly aged features, nothing quite peculiar about his appearance other than the robes about his body... A Breton?

Taking a rather enormous breath, the man spoke with a quaint but charming accent, still shaking as Endric's sword pressed into his throat.

"I- perhaps I should introduce myself first?"

"If you think it'll help save your life."

The man swallowed loudly. "Ah- my name is Farran Moreau, scholar and publisher of many great works, seasoned member of the College of Winterhold and well known as the-"

 _By the Nine this man can talk..._

"That's enough, I get the point. The name would have sufficed."

"Apologies, my good man. And even greater apologies for interrupting you."

Endric cursed under his breath, remembering his jewel thief at the stall, who had now slipped into the night. Turning to glare at Farran, he threw his hand up to present the scene.

"Look what you just did, that bastard got away! Why did you stop me from taking him down, I could have helped this damn city."

He appeared shocked, but only for a moment before replacing it with a firm shake of the head. "No, no you couldn't have. I know it's hard for men like you stand there and watch, but it's truly what's best in this situation."

Endric scrunched his brow, annoyance rising. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look around you, see these people that are walking about? Thieves. Just like your friend. And if the guild thinks you took out one of their own, there'll be consequences."

He scoffed at the thought. "I doubt that. No honor amongst thieves."

"I wasn't speaking of them," Farran lowered his voice, despite no one being around to here. "Maven Blackbriar owns this city. And she's a fan of the guild. You're an outsider, I can see it on your face. If the guild doesn't get you, then she will. Trust me, Riften is fully corrupt anyhow. No one worth sticking your neck out for."

The thought reminded Endric of why he was here in the first place; his potion. And Talayth. Someone he certainly shouldn't have stuck his neck out for. To think one damn woman was the reason he didn't have what he came for. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the Inn, praying she hadn't snuck out when his focus had shifted. Farran watched him with tense shoulders, as if expecting him to attack yet again.

He had a job to do. And he'd wasted enough time floundering about the market. The sun would rise soon, and then it would be time to finally finish what he came for.

"You-ah... aren't mad are you?"

Endric waved the idea away, no longer interested in the conversation. "I thought you were a another thief. Sure as hell didn't expect a mage to be out and about this late at night." he paused, the oddity sinking in, before turning back to Farran. "Why are you out here again?"

Farran's face perked up with a smile. "I just arrived actually, a bit later than expected unfortunately. I was hoping to get some potions for the college. We have a wonderful selection, but the alchemist here, he is certainly something else. We've been looking for new creations, to get some sprite back into our work. It's really quite the-"

"Wait, you deal with potions at the college?"

"Well, yes, of course we do... is that odd to you?"

 _This man... if anyone knows about the Phial, it'll be the College of Winterhold... I need to know if this is the real deal_

Endric glanced at the inn one last time, before giving Farran a large pat on the shoulder. "Not at all. In fact, you might make my life quite a deal easier..."

"Now. Come with me."

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:** Hello and thank you for reading :) I don't normally include author notes, but I finally have a reason to do so. I've just recently opened up a DeviantArt account, and have decided to create illustrations with the book and the characters. So here's the link to my account, and you'll be able to see what I've uploaded so far. Talayth is currently all I have finished, but I hope to get a few works of Endric up really soon. Any support of my account is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy the story as well as the artwork I've provided for it! I recommend seeing them at least once for a good idea as how the characters should look, but it's not necessary at all for the story.

Link: art/Dunmer-Woman-Talayth-3-688916970

Put this in the search bar, or simply search the word "Talayth and you should be able to find my art for the story :) thank you and enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

Bickering. Like small children.

They seemed to tear at each other's throats, like Sabre Cats dig their fangs into their victims. Heated glares and forced words spat back and forth. And no matter how much drink passed their lips, hostilities remained. Endric, the thin but agitated Nord from the market, armored and angered as he slammed his tankard onto the table without shame nor show. His eyes taunted the woman to speak, daring to give him anything to turn against her. And Talayth, the attractively curvy Dunmer, who's bitter and haughty attitude made her no prettier than that of an Orc. Hissing back in all her melodramatic glory. As if being in the same room with the man just made her skin crawl. And Farran sat quietly between them, wondering if setting the place on fire would work as a distraction to aid his escape.

Why he was here to begin with remained a mystery. As no one was willing to give him a straight answer. But their edged silence was too strong to break, and so the awkward tension continued, even as the sun began to rise through the cracks of the roof, he sat quietly and waited for some change in direction.

Talayth was the first to break their curse, wondering the very same thing, her voice blunt and matter-of-fact. "You still haven't told my why he's here."

Endric, rubbing the shadows under his eyes, lessened his glare as he turned to the mage. "He's from the College of Winterhold, up north. Quite the proprietor of magic so I hear."

"And what does that have to do with us?"

"I want him to look at that potion," he quickly snatched the bag from her lap, sliding it across the table towards Farran. "Introduce yourself, and then examine it. I didn't just walk this damn country only to get the wrong potion-"

Talayth crossed her arms in a huff, leaning back into her chair with her head tilted at Endric. "Oh, so you're going to let some stranger handle the bottle without a care. And yet you were concerned I'd roll over the damn thing in my sleep."

"Oh please, look at him. He's not going anywhere. And besides, you said you weren't going to sleep. But where did I find you? Drooling on the satchel with your pretty little eyes shut."

"I was not drooling!" her eyes shot towards Farran, cheeks a bit pink across her ashen skin. "I wasn't."

Farran brushed her embarrassment away with a wave of his hand. "To be frank, Mi'lady, I really don't care of your sleeping habits." Farran shuffled in his chair, lips drawn into a tight line. "I'd really just like to examine the potion and be on my way. What exactly are you looking for again?"

Silence. The inn was long since vacated, the early morning giving way to new opportunities and work to be done. Their trio was the only remaining, and yet they still hesitated to speak openly. Endric took a breath before muttering his story.

"A potion, made from the first snow that fell upon Skryim. Lost in the ages. It's told to have magical properties. I've been searching for it for months, to no end," he shook his head slowly, brow creased, "It's the only solution I have."

"And It's my way out of this damn city," Talayth added, much less passionate.

 _Fortune-seekers. No doubt looking to sell the artifact for a price. No one truly appreciates lost legends anymore._

 _"_ Very well. I'll lend my aid."

Their bickering ceased, and Endric hesitated just slightly before handing the small potion across the table. With gentle hands, Farran tilted the phial around his fingers, eyes alight with curiosity. It was... dull. Nothing but a healing potion made of dirt stained glass. If the liquid inside truly did shine with magic, He didn't dare open it, knowing his acquaintances wouldn't wait to cut him down on the spot. Instead, he relied on more mundane skills to determine the content... the price.

"Ah..."

Endric was on the edge of his chair, eyes wide with desperation and agony. As if it pained him to even think of the possibility of false hope. Talayth, in contrast, studied Endric with alarming silence, shocked, but interested. Farran eyed them both wearily, before giving an answer.

"Well... I must say, this is a bit..."

"A bit _what_?" Endric's tone sparked with frustration, "It it the potion or not? Damn it, I knew it was too good to be true. I just thought Riften would be the place to find it, if anywhere- damn it."

Farran had to bite back his cold remark. "I'm terribly sorry for the loss... but really," he chided, holding up the tiny tag that laid against it's frame, "Did you honestly think a legendary potion that was lost to ages would be fifty septims? Surely you realized this when you bought it..."

Their eyes met for just a moment, before Endric's head fell, hitting the table in defeat. Talayth bit her lip, addressing Farran.

"We didn't actually pay for it now that I think about it... spur of the moment thing."

 _By the Divines, they're a bunch of thieving fetchers._

"Well," Farran coughed awkwardly, as if to cover up the crime, "In any case, that's not even the first giveaway. You do realize the potion your looking for is known as the White Phial, yes?

Endric threw his head up with fervor, "It has a name? So I really can find it? BY THE NINE!"

He fell back into the chair, hands pressed to his face with pure joy, muffling his cries of happiness. Watching with a coy smile, Talayth rolled her eyes the other way.

"Yes, well you're still missing the point," Farran waited for him to catch his bearings before giving him yet another critique, "It's called the _White_ Phial. _White_. Not red. Unless you happen to be color blind, in that case I apologize."

Endric growled with annoyance, "Hey, I didn't have a damn name for it until now. And what in oblivion is color blind..."

"Some people can only see certain colors, or shades, or-" Farran shook his head in a start, "this really isn't the time, If you're that curious, why not come back to the college with me? You might very well find someone with a clue to your Phial as well. We're quite the esteemed group of philosophers and scholars, mages unparalleled in Skyrim."

Endric gave Farran a slight grin before reaching his hand across the table with a firm shake. "You had me at the word Phial. Stopped listening at the rest."

Rising from their chairs, they approached each other with wide arms, giving a more formal handshake. The Innkeeper was gritting her teeth, infuriated by their constant presence. She slammed empty tankards onto their table, a clear indication that it was time to leave. Farran did his best to give a formal apology as he bartered for supplies, as Endric flew up the steps to gather their belongings. But neither one of them got out the door before Talayth cried out, leaving them in their tracks.

"What are you doing? You promised!" her hand latched onto Enric's as he gripped his bag, "You said you'd get me out of here once I gave you the potion!"

"Yeah, funny how it works isn't it," he practically pushed the woman away. "The deal is off, that potion is a fraud and now there's nothing that you have to offer now is there? You've been a pain in my ass since I dragged you out of the snow. Beat it."

Farran stayed silent, but he couldn't help frowning as Talayth's face contorted into angry tears. She really was quite the work, but it seemed a little cruel.

He hesitated, before giving a slight tap on Endric's shoulder.

"Pardon, but what exactly happened before this... situation?"

"I found her in the snow, dying. And this," he retorted, "this was what I get. For her to attack me with a book, run off, and then come back just to take the one thing I need."

"A... book? I'm sorry I don't follow-"

"Forget her. She's intent on causing trouble. Let's just get to the College."

Talayth grabbed onto Farran's arm next, desperate. "No please, just take me with you, and I'll leave right after. I just can't stay in this city! You can take me to the College! I know magic-"

"What?" Farran took her arm away to shake her hand, "Why didn't you say so, I was here in Riften to recruit new mages, this is exactly what I need! You're welcome at the College any time! Now I just need to check on Miss Blackbriar down at the alchemist's shop and off we go-"

Endric's jaw dropped, "You're kidding me. I can't believe this."

Talayth sniffed in response, before Farran raised his hands to calm them both. "This works to all of our advantages. So please just work with me until we can all get settled at the College. I promise it will be worth your time."

Silence. Endric was heated in fury, veins apparent in his neck as he glared down at Talayth. She didn't dare look up.

"Fine. Let's move. And _you_ ," he said, lifting his sword from its sheath to point it towards the Dunmer. "You will not speak another word."


End file.
